


the one with the kinkshaming

by arielmagicesi



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Bondage, Car Sex, Crack, I literally hate all of this oh my god, Light BDSM, M/M, Phone Sex, Sapiosexuality, Skype, Smut, i swear it's mostly a joke, kinkshaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:19:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7897738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arielmagicesi/pseuds/arielmagicesi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this is the worst thing I've ever done in my life.<br/>also the most sexual thing I've ever written considering it's basically a crack fic<br/>(mercilessly mocking Ronan and Adam for their weird kinks)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one with the kinkshaming

**Author's Note:**

> Primarily inspired by this post: http://adamparrush.tumblr.com/post/149526519255/list-of-actual-canonical-things-that-adam-and  
> feel free to judge me for this

Obviously, they’d thought about what they liked. They’d been dating for more than a year now and had been fairly sexually active for the majority of that time. They hadn’t been able to get their hands off each other for a good few months, and even after both of them had calmed down about it a bit, they were always still eager to get each other alone and into a bed or occasionally a clean, undisturbed surface somewhere else. (They’d definitely learned their lesson about _not_ getting naked on a dirt-encrusted hay bale, though).

They didn’t _talk_ about it, though. It wasn’t that they were embarrassed to talk about sex, certainly not with each other, but usually when they talked about it they were making obnoxious jokes, not taking each other seriously. There was no conversation about what the other liked or didn’t like, what they fantasized about, what they wanted, because it made it so awkward and clinical.

Besides, they were more than capable of communicating through touch and wordless sounds. Adam groaning low in his throat and pushing harder against Ronan when Ronan pulled his hair told Ronan more than enough, and then Ronan made it a point to dig his fingers further into Adam’s scalp whenever they were making out. Ronan’s embarrassing blush whenever Adam gave him a genuine compliment was enough to make Adam decide to whisper soft praises in his ear when he fucked him, which worked.

And if anything didn’t work, they always made sure to ask, to be careful, to be gentle until they knew it was OK to stop being gentle.

Of course, when things got “weird and fucked up,” as Ronan put it, they talked about it, but again, mostly in the realm of immature jokes. It was sometime over the summer before Adam left for his freshman year of college when Ronan came back from church, still wearing his suit, and Matthew had taken Opal to go to a children’s museum.

When Adam wordlessly pushed Ronan onto the couch, took his tie off for him, and grabbed his wrists to fasten them in the tie, Ronan had just laughed and said, “Are you really fucking doing this, Parrish, you fucked-up weirdo?”

Adam looked him in the eye and said, “Do you want me to stop?”

Then Ronan turned a little red and said, “I… I mean… do whatever the fuck you want, I don’t care.”

“All right, I guess I’ll untie you, then,” Adam said nonchalantly.

“No,” Ronan said, way too quickly, and then it was Adam’s turn to laugh.

Afterwards, Ronan had said, “This was the weirdest fucking thing we’ve ever done.”

“Weirder than scrying into dreams together?”

“You know what the fuck I mean.”

“Did you not like it?” Adam asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“No,” Ronan said, voice getting a little lower and quieter. “It was good. You can do that again, if you want.”

And then, to really perfect his disinterest, he added, “Don’t bring out any fucking whips and chains, though.”

“Asshole,” Adam said, rolling his eyes.

So then it became a more regular thing. Adam had to admit that he liked being in control, and Ronan, reluctantly, had to admit that he liked having Adam be in control. Adam giving him those quiet orders that set him on fire, tying him to the bed, telling him when he was doing well.

One time, Adam asked Ronan to tie him up, but even then Adam was still in control, still telling him what to do. He’d just wanted to feel what it was to not have use of his hands. And Ronan, naturally, was willing to comply.

When they were done, that time, and Ronan was sitting in Adam’s lap quietly kissing his neck, Adam said, “You know what made me think to ask that?”

“Dunno,” Ronan said, distracted by a spot of freckles under Adam’s chin.

“You don’t remember? _Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit.”_

Ronan cursed under his breath. He had not forgotten that he’d said that. It had mostly been to comfort Adam, while he’d lost control, forced to hurt his friends, and he’d just wanted Adam to feel like they were still normal, like Ronan was still going to make dumb Latin jokes even if Adam’s hands were possessed by a demon.

But it was also a little bit true, that perhaps they’d look on tied-up hands in pleasure one day. And clearly that day had arrived.

Still, it wasn’t some weird kink or fetish. It wasn’t 50 Shades of Grey or some other creepy-ass porn thing like that. It was just something that made both of them lose their minds, something they really liked, and there was no need to sit down and have a lengthy conversation about it, _obviously_ , because that would have been such a loser thing to do. Ronan could just imagine it. Like they were a gross, boring middle-aged married couple trying to spice things up in the bedroom, and, and, one of them had seen on Oprah or some shit that there was some book about kinky sex, and then Ronan cursed himself because he actually hopelessly loved the idea of him and Adam being a pathetic middle-aged couple trying to spice up their sex life via Oprah’s book club.

Anyway, they weren’t really much for conversations about sex. It was either annoying jokes and comments thrown into other conversations when they were busy with something else, or else just a little bit of talking about it usually led them to start going at it until they were both too tired to think about having a real conversation.

Once Adam was away at college, it became a little different. Ronan missed regularly hearing his laugh, seeing his smile, talking to him at any second if he wanted, his easy casual touches, waking up next to him in the morning and falling asleep pressed to his side at night. Soon enough, though, he also missed the practicalities- like having a second parent to help take care of Opal, since being a single parent was kind of a chaotic nightmare. Or having someone to fix his damn tractor when it inevitably broke down, or having Parrish’s math skills when he was trying to figure out paying bills.

And, obviously, he missed having sex with Adam. Before Adam had left, he’d thought it would be easy- after all, he’d gone eighteen years without so much as kissing anyone, how hard could it be to go back to that life? He knew how to masturbate, and now it would be even easier with actual real-life memories to think about.

Ronan’s two-weeks-ago self was clearly a fucking idiot, because Adam being away at college was going to be the death of him. He’d gotten way, way too used to regular, near-daily sex.

On their next Skype call, after Opal had chattered away to Adam for half an hour and then said goodbye and run off to finish her science project, Ronan tried to casually bring it up.

“So, what, is your roommate there?” he asked.

“Nah,” Adam said. Ronan’s eyes were glued to the screen- it was so inadequate, but it was still _something_ , that image of Adam’s beautiful face and upper body against the bland walls of his dorm room. The sound of his voice. He missed him so goddamn much.

“Cool,” Ronan said. “I guess, like, you can get naked if you want.” And then he laughed halfheartedly, to illustrate that obviously, that had been a joke, and he didn’t desperately want to see Adam naked.

Adam gave him the most judgmental look imaginable, and Ronan could tell his loneliness was pretty transparent.

“That desperate, huh, Lynch?” he said.

Ronan glared at the screen. “Fuck you.”

Adam laughed, and Ronan couldn’t be mad at him, not with that sound that made his insides melt.

“Actually,” Adam said, voice softening, “I’m pretty desperate, too. God, I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” Ronan said, reaching out to stroke Adam’s cheek, and feeling his heart break a little when his hand ran into the computer screen. Adam laughed again.

“I _could_ get naked, if you really want,” he said.

“Whatever,” Ronan said. “Opal might come downstairs again any second.”

“So go to our room,” Adam said. “And make sure the door’s closed.”

He was using that voice, the only voice in the world that could tell Ronan Lynch to do something and have him actually do it, so Ronan muttered, “Fine, since you’re so horny, loser,” and headed up the stairs with his laptop.

As it turned out, sex was harder to navigate when there was a laptop and hundreds of miles between the two parties involved. Seeing and hearing each other weren’t the only things that made it good; they needed touch, and there was no way to achieve that unless they got creative. Ronan adamantly refused to dream up or buy any weird sex toys, because that was embarrassing and stupid and he wasn’t going to do it. Adam refused to buy anything along those lines because it was a waste of money. So they relied on words and images to get each other as riled up as necessary.

And then they had to start admitting out loud what they were into.

Mostly, it came in the form of admitting it for each other.

Like the time when they were on the phone and had both started to get themselves off, and Adam, desperately, had breathed out, “I miss- god- this isn’t _enough_ without you touching me. Jesus. I don’t know, say something sexy.”

“Something sexy?” Ronan said in a mocking tone.

“Yeah, that’s hilarious,” Adam said, breathing hard. “Think of something.”

And then Ronan, grinning to himself, casually recited a couple of lines from the _Aeneid_.

It had just been a suspicion he’d had- every time he recited Latin well, Adam’s eyes would get wide and he’d fidget a little. It was subtle, but Ronan noticed it, and once they’d gotten together, he’d noticed that the occurrences of Adam grabbing him and pushing him against a wall to kiss him were more frequent when Ronan said something in Latin, or casually brought up an obscure fact that he knew, or talked knowledgably about the scientific intricacies of agriculture.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Adam hissed, from the other side of the phone, and then said quickly, “Is that Virgil? That’s- that’s not something sexy, dumbass-”

“Sure sounded like you found it sexy.”

“God damn it, Ronan,” Adam said, and took a few fast, sharp breaths, which made Ronan, in turn, shift a little in bed, imagining Adam splayed out somewhere with his eyes closed and mouth open, gasping.

Then Adam said, “You just had that memorized? God, how much Latin do you have memorized?”

“I _was_ the top of the class, you know.”

“Fuck,” Adam said again. “Fuck, Ronan, you’re so smart.”

Ronan laughed, though he was also breathing hard, stroking himself quicker now, and said, “You’re the Ivy League student.”

“Yeah, but you know all this shit,” Adam said. “God, that’s so… Fuck, Ronan, tell me more stuff that you know.”

“Jesus,” Ronan muttered, because this was ridiculous, but he said, “I mean, I used to read a _lot_ of old Latin poems. Still read them sometimes, actually.”

Adam gasped, quick and breathless.

“You want to hear me recite more shit I know?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Adam said.

Ronan recited as many lines of Latin poetry as he could remember, which was quite a few, and Adam’s quiet moans and harsh breaths spurred him on until he heard Adam gasping and cursing through his orgasm, and then Ronan was coming, too.

When they both caught their breath, Adam said, “I swear to God, Lynch, if you’re going to be an asshole about this-”

“You _know_ I’m going to be an asshole about this,” Ronan said. “I can’t believe you have a fucking kink for- what, for _knowledge?_ That’s the nerdiest shit I’ve ever heard of, and I’m friends with Gansey.”

“Shut up. You have a- you’re- you literally get turned on by gasoline, you asshole.”

“What the fuck makes you think that?” Ronan said, really glad that Adam couldn’t see him, because his face was definitely red, because he _definitely_ got turned on by the smell of gasoline.

“Yeah, don’t deny it. Every time I came home from work and you told me not to shower? You were always fucking sniffing me and then whenever you got to a grease stain on my shirt, you fucking lost your shit.”

“Fuck you, Parrish,” Ronan said, and dragged a hand over his face.

“Maybe we should fuck in a gas station,” Adam said.

“Yeah, maybe we should fuck in a library, then you can smell all the fucking _knowledge_ that you want,” Ronan said.

“Or anywhere,” Adam said, a little quieter. “As long as I could actually touch you.”

“Yeah,” Ronan said, voice softening, too. “I don’t care where.”

The next time Adam came home, for fall break, he led Ronan out into the driveway at night and pushed him into the driver’s seat of the BMW. Then he went inside and changed into his old work coveralls, which still had the smell of engine oil and gasoline clinging to them, and went back into the car and straddled Ronan and began making out with him before Ronan could ask what was going on.

“Fuck,” Ronan said, because this could have been an exact replica of some shitty repressed fantasy from back when he was seventeen. “Adam, this is so fucking-” He’d meant to say _weird_ or _lame_ or _gross_ , but it just turned into a moan when Adam pushed his hand in between Ronan’s legs.

But of course, it wasn’t weird or lame or gross. They weren’t like some weird couple, getting all dressed up and going to sex toy shops and, whatever, stupid shit like that. This wasn’t some _fetish_ thing or whatever. Other people did that and that was fine, but they weren’t like other people, they were a magician and a dreamer and they were parents to a little satyr and they were in love and they recited Latin and facts about farming while having sex tied up in the backseat of a car. Nothing weird about it.

Over winter break, they met up with Gansey, Henry, and Blue back at Monmouth, where they’d finally returned after months of travel in South America. Neither Ronan nor Adam had been back to Monmouth in ages, but it felt lived-in when they returned- still the inexplicably overgrown mint plant, still the scattered books, still an empty pizza box in one corner. Ronan was overcome with nostalgia and affection. Even if the time he’d spent here were some of the worst months of his life, they were also some of the best.

The overwhelming wave of nostalgia slowed down into hours of talking, laughing, catching up. Gansey had insisted on buying souvenirs for all of them- mostly tacky, awful things or weirdly academic and likely very expensive gifts. Adam adamantly refused to take a shard of pottery that looked like garbage but, due to its origins, had clearly cost several hundred dollars.

“But _Adam_ ,” Gansey said. “It’s a genuine Pueblo artifact- you remember, I told you about how the ley lines-”

“Your argument is that it’s an artifact from a culture that was systematically murdered and robbed? And now you’re giving it to me?” Adam said.

Blue cackled. “Man, I missed having someone with common sense around.”

“Hey, I have common sense!” Henry said.

“That’s a good one.”

Ronan got up at some point to go to the bathroom, and when he left, the others were so entrenched in their conversation that he thought he could get away with wandering a bit. He went into his old room, hit again by that wave of nostalgia, and ran his hands along some of his old belongings.

He sat down on the bed.

Never, during those long months of agony and loneliness, had he thought that his life would be so full and happy so soon.

The door creaked open. It was Adam.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You OK?”

Ronan looked up.

“Of course I’m OK,” he said. He got up and, warm with the knowledge that he was overly familiar with Adam’s hands, took one of Adam’s hands and kissed it.

“What’s with you?” Adam asked. “You’re being affectionate.”

“Yeah,” Ronan said. “Sorry, can’t resist you. You know how it is.”

“Asshole,” Adam said, in that voice that meant he was actually saying _I love you_.

Then Adam suddenly said, “Hey, what are those?”

Ronan turned around. Adam was looking at a pile of cardboard boxes on one wall of the room. They were labeled in Gansey’s neat handwriting, with bits of Blue’s messy handwriting surrounding them.

“I think they put some boxes in my room,” Ronan said. “For storage or whatever.”

“Yeah, but,” Adam said, “why is that one labeled _costumes?_ What the fuck?”

Ronan grinned, and within five seconds both of them had rushed over to open the box.

“Oh, my God,” Ronan said, voice filled with glee.

The box was filled, as the label said, with costumes- both incredibly well-crafted ones that had probably been bought from professional theatre companies, and ones that had obviously been cobbled together by Blue’s craft knowledge. They all fit a pretty obvious theme- historical, medieval outfits. Ronan recognized one tunic from a famous image of Glendower that Gansey loved, and a dress that looked oddly like something Queen Elizabeth might have worn.

“I didn’t know,” Adam said, looking up with a wicked grin, “that our friends were involved in the art of theater.”

“You don’t think…” Ronan said.

He grabbed the box in his arms and headed out the door, looking down the landing at where Gansey, Henry, and Blue were talking merrily about some adventure or other.

Ronan coughed loudly. They looked up.

“So, what’s this?” Ronan asked, shifting the box so they could see the label and some of the fabrics spilling out.

The horrified look on Gansey’s face and the blush that came over Blue’s told him everything he needed to know. Henry’s eyes widened.

“No,” Henry said. “You gotta be kidding me. You two didn’t… you didn’t fucking _roleplay_ , did you?”

Gansey covered his face with his hands. Blue’s expression turned defensive, though she was still bright red.

“And what’s wrong with that?” she asked. “Do you have a problem with women expressing their sexuality in whatever way they so choose?”

“Didn’t say anything about women, Sargent,” Ronan said, heading down the stairs, with Adam following him and laughing. “I’m trying to make fun of Gansey here.”

Henry peered into the box, looked up, and said, “I’m gonna make it clear right now, I was never part of any of this. You guys didn’t tell me about this.”

“What kind of a roleplay was it?” Ronan asked. “Gansey, don’t tell me you pretended to be Glendower.”

Gansey dug his face further into his hands.

“Don’t torment him like this,” Blue said. “You guys are assholes. It’s a private matter.”

“If you wanted it to be private, next time don’t leave a box of your sex toys in my room,” Ronan said.

“They aren’t _sex toys_ , you asshole.”

Adam was thoughtfully studying one of the outfits. “You know, this doesn’t really look like it’s from the era of Glendower,” he said. “More like eighteenth-century France. You didn’t do any Marie Antoinette roleplay or whatever, did you?”

Blue opened her mouth to protest when Gansey muttered, “It _was_ about the French Revolution, actually.”

Ronan, Adam, and Henry burst into laughter.

“Oh, you think this is so funny?” Blue said, eyebrows narrowing. “You want to do this? We can do this. Because I’m sure you two are so pure and vanilla.”

“Don’t try and change the subject, Sargent,” Ronan said.

“So you can dish it out but you can’t take it, huh?”

“No, it’s just that we don’t leave out piles of evidence, so you don’t have any material to work with,” Adam chimed in.

“Please,” Blue said. “I’m sure it wouldn’t take me too many guesses. Let me guess, Ronan, you have a fetish for, for _cars_ or something.”

“Can we please not talk about this?” Gansey said from behind his hands, but Blue’s face was already filling with glee at the sight of Ronan and Adam’s expressions.

“You do!” she said. “Oh my God, that was a joke, I didn’t really think you had a car fetish.”

“Shut up, Sargent,” Ronan muttered.

“Ohhh no, I’m not shutting up,” she said. “So, what? You just have sex in the cars, or is it some weird pretending-you’re-a-car thing?”

“I said shut up, Sargent.”

“Aw, come on, Blue-girl,” Henry said, stifling a laugh. “Don’t kinkshame them.”

“What the fuck does _kinkshame_ mean?” Ronan said, glad to have a channel to change the subject. Next to him, Adam was covering his face with his hands much the same way Gansey had been.

Henry looked around at their confused expressions, and said exasperatedly, “Why do none of you participate in Internet culture? I swear, the entirety of Henrietta is frozen in 2002.”

“For the last time,” Blue said, “I don’t waste my time on the same stuff as every other teenager-”

“Yeah, you were born in the wrong generation, we know,” Henry said, ruffling her hair, which earned him an irritated glare and a shove.

“Wait, I want to know,” Gansey said, having emerged from behind his hands at last. “This is an interesting linguistic term. What’s kinkshaming?”

Henry let out an amused huff, and then he said, “You know. It’s like, making fun of someone for what they’re into, sexually. Some people on the Internet were trying to compare it to homophobia- you know, like, if somebody made a joke about BDSM, they would be like- _don’t shame my kink! That’s as bad as homophobia or racism!_ So, now, it’s kind of an ironic joke, you know? Like, oh, I want to steal this TV, and you can’t arrest me because stealing is my kink and that would be kinkshaming, that sort of thing.”

“That is so stupid; I wish I’d never learned that term,” Blue said.

“Anyway, don’t kinkshame Lynch for his dumb car fetish,” Henry said.

Ronan glared at him, then added, “If anyone should be kinkshamed or whatever the fuck, it’s Parrish.”

“Oh?” Henry said, eyebrows lifting. “And why’s that?”

“I’m gonna murder you, Ronan,” Adam muttered, and Ronan said, “He has a kink for _knowledge_.”

“A what?” Henry said. Blue and Gansey both looked up, Blue looking delighted yet again, and Gansey looking amused.

“Damn it, Ronan!” Adam said, sounding annoyed but not genuinely upset. “You’re the worst. You’re the one who gets off on the smell of gasoline.”

“Hey, if they have to know about the car thing, I’m gonna tell them about the Latin thing.”

“The _Latin_ thing?” Blue asked.

“He’s really into me reciting Latin shit,” Ronan said, while Adam made vague noises of protest.

“Aw, that is really cute, actually,” Blue said, reaching over to gently pat Adam’s shoulder. Adam buried his face in Ronan’s side.

“What’s so damn embarrassing about it?” Adam asked, looking up. “So what? It just means I’m attracted to intelligence.”

Henry cracked up. “Oh God, Parrish, are you sapiosexual?”

“What the fuck is sapiosexual?” Ronan asked.

“I’m bisexual,” Adam said.  
Henry threw a hand over his face. “Do you guys know _nothing_?”

“Is that from a goddamn Latin root?” Ronan asked. “ _Sapiens?_ Like, knowledge-sexual?”

“Ooh, watch out, Ronan, don’t show your Latin knowledge too much,” Blue said, laughing.

“I hate all of you,” Adam said, face still pressed against Ronan’s shirt.

Ronan put an arm around him and glared at Blue and Henry, who were still cracking up joyously. Frankly, he didn’t care anymore how weird and gross he and Adam were, as long as they were both happy.

**Author's Note:**

> I know that Blue would rather die than talk explicitly about her friends' sex lives, so I made it so that she was only doing it to be cruel to them in revenge. Still not sure if it's OOC, but let me know.  
> I'm on Tumblr at arielmagicesi and Twitter at @ArielKalati if you want to drag me for this elsewhere


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